


Homonyms

by mnemosyne23



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Flash Fic, Some Sexiness, Some Sweetness, Some Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homonym: Words that share spelling and pronunciation but may have different meanings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homonyms

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this came from, only that it insisted I write it.

“Don't let go,” Thor reminded her as he wrapped his arm around Jane's waist. With his other hand he began to whirl Mjolnir in an ever faster circle, building up the energy for their journey.

“I won't,” Jane assured him, clinging to his armor as she beamed up at him, eyes alight with curiosity. Her brain was racing with calculations of speed and trajectory, force and friction. “I won't let go until you stop.”

He kissed her as they flew.

 

+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+

 

“Don't let go,” Loki purred, curling Darcy's fingers around the pinions of her headboard. He dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead, which nevertheless felt painfully sexual when juxtaposed against the rub of her bare breasts on his pale chest, her smooth legs tangled with his.

“I won't,” Darcy moaned, clinging to the headboard as he started to kiss his way down her body; feathery kisses that wound a torturous path from her lips, between her breasts, over the flat plane of her soft belly and down, down, down... “I won't let go until you stop.”

He kissed her and she flew.

 

+&+&+&+&+&+&+&+

 

“Don't let go,” Clint rasped, calloused fingers clinging weakly to her hand. The air was clear up here on the mesa; the eyrie of a desert eagle. The painted landscape stretched out below them; miles and miles of empty New Mexico that kissed the sun on the horizon.

“I won't,” Natasha promised, lacing her fingers with his and holding on for dear life. Her other hand rested on his stomach, sticky and red, so she kept her eyes on his face and pretended she only had one hand. Pretended that the screaming in her ears was the sound of a Quinjet coming to whisk them back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and not the hollow wail of the wind. “I won't let go until you stop.”

And she kissed him when he flew.


End file.
